Demeter stalked silently over the stone-scattered pathway. The little scrap of wilderness was the perfect place to find a plump mouse or unwary rat. She would have licked her lips in hunger- if cats had lips. As it was, she looked ever harder, eager for any tiny movement.
There!
A tail. Not a rodent- a cat. A mangy, orange cat. Thinking of the friendly strays she had met before, Dem called out.

'Hello? Am I intruding?'

A voice startled her from behind. It sounded raspy, like his throat was full of dust and muck. 'No no, my dear. By all means, stay.'

'Thankyou. I was just out hunting, you know, for a mouse or-'

'So was I. Out hunting, I mean. Not for a mouse, though.'

'Oh? Did you lose something?'

'No.'

'Then what?'

'I was searching for a pretty young queen. It seems I've found her.'

Demeter flashed briefly on being flattered, but passed it up for good old awkwardness. 'Not in me, I hope.'

The tom nodded almost creepily. 'The sweetest little flower, blooming out on her own. A little, golden flower. That's a real pretty colour, you know.'

The tom seemed like a true gentlecat to her. So suave and somehow alluring. Demeter began to take a liking to him. Realising, though, that she still had nothing to eat, she made her excuses. The tom wasn't hearing any of it.

'Now that I've found my pretty little flower, I'm not gonna let her go, now, am I? I'm gonna pick her, and keep her.'

Now the fear began. Slowly at first, then cresting as the ginger stray reached towards her.

'I think you should come with me.'

Demeter shook her head, silent with apprehension. But that gave him no pause for thought as he came closer.

'No! Please, I don't want-'

Too late, she saw the paw moving towards her like lightning.

Pain, then black.

Bombalurina was bored. Demeter was taking too long to catch a measly mouse. Sighing, Bomba thought maybe her sister was too little to go out hunting by herself. She wasn't good enough yet.
In an attempt to break through the monotony of a night confined in the backyard alone, she tried out a few dance moves to an A major scale. Feeling lonely all of a sudden, she didn't realise when she made the switch to A minor. Eventually it changed to a harmonic, then melodic. Finally, she ambitiously tried a chromatic. Every single note rang clear and true. Three octaves, up and down. Not bad for a cat who hadn't yet seen two Balls.
Her singing attracted attention. Bad attention. That wasn't to say unwelcomed.

'Well, hey there, Bom-bal-u-ri-na.'

The silkiest voice in all the tribe wafted over the fence, drawing out her name. Bomba quickly wondered whether her fur was curled properly. It was, of course. And there he was, perched on the weatherboards. She acted unimpressed.

'It's bad manners to interrupt a practice, Rum-Tum-Tug-ger.' She pronounced his full name, saying it long as he had hers.

'But when it's such a lurvely practice, I just can't help myself.' If it were possible, Bomba became even redder.

'Well, then. Help yourself.' She tried to stay cool, calm, collected. Belting out a few choice notes, she turned away.

'Nice.' He complimented. 'Hey- you want to see something cool?'

'Depends. How cool?'

'This cool.' He proudly strutted over and showed off some golden fuzz around his neck. She'd seen this before, all the kittens had. Last ball he hadn't stopped flaunting it. But now, it was longer. Silkier. Bulkier. Even, Bomba thought guiltily, sexier.

'It's all around, now. Next Ball It'll be like a lion's mane, except on a much handsomer cat than a lion. Me.'

'Nice.' She mimicked him again.

He fell silent for a moment. Then, 'You want to explore a bit?'

'What, with you?'

'Why not? It's a nice night...' He seemed a little awkward, not like his usual, flirtatious self.

'I can't, Tugger.'

'Oh.' He said dejectedly.

'I'd love to, really, but my sister's out hunting, and-'

'My brother's out hunting- I'm allowed out to play.' He joked.

'He's older than you. And you have a father. I'm responsible for her.'

'Just relax. Take a night off. Come on!'

Bomba thought about it. What harm would it do? Demeter was taking ages anyway. The catflap was open- she could get inside fine. Maybe, maybe for one night, she could take care of herself. Yeah.

"Alright. It's a date.'